


Hold Me, Thrill Me: A Sequel

by TiaWattpader



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Did I mention sex?, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Life at 221B Baker Street, Established Relationship, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fanfiction of Fanfiction, Fluff, Love-Making, M/M, One Shot, Original content based off of another fanfiction!, Tooth Rotting Fluff, Valentines Day 2021, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, it's legit just them, looooove, warning -- extreme fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:14:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29372895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiaWattpader/pseuds/TiaWattpader
Summary: This is a sequel to the wonderful fic by Tamed_Untranslatable who wrote something so beautiful I wanted to copy-cat and do it too. But really it was just too sweet not to do it as well. I HIGHLY suggest reading theirs before this one.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 12
Kudos: 17





	Hold Me, Thrill Me: A Sequel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tamed_untranslatable](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamed_untranslatable/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Hold Me, Thrill Me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27645128) by [tamed_untranslatable](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamed_untranslatable/pseuds/tamed_untranslatable). 



Hold Me, Thrill Me: A Secual 

Dedicated to: T [ amed_Untranslatable ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamed_untranslatable/pseuds/tamed_untranslatable)

Of course, life wouldn’t be as simple as to let John repay Sherlock the next day. Monday began the start of what would be a ridiculously demanding week at the clinic, and an even worse week for Sherlock. 

It began with a simple case, a basic domestic dispute turned violent and ugly. But then complexity reared its ugly head and revealed a longer story. The case suddenly turned from domestic violence, to child abuse, to kidnapping and even more horrid; trafficking. 

Thursday required John to leave the clinic and join Sherlock and the met for a harrowing fifteen and a half hour search for the runaway child. Only to find the child in ill-health and kissing death’s door. Luckily, John had come prepared with basic first aid and armed with an ambulance on the way. Just as John and Sherlock were able to take a breath, in came another case from Mycroft. An urgent matter that required Sherlock’s immediate attention.

And so Friday, Saturday and Sunday, John spent alone on the phone constantly with Sherlock. Having not been allowed due to “security” reasoning he was unable to physically help Sherlock with the case and it was eating at him terribly. To make up for this horrible separation, John prepared to take Monday off in order to spend time with Sherlock. 

“You said Monday you’ll be back, yeah?” He asked on the phone for the third time that weekend. 

“Yes John, unless Mycroft happens to spring yet another mishap on me, then I should be home tonight or tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll make you dinner then, god knows you probably haven’t eaten yet.” John heard a frustrated huff from the other side of the line, but no argument was forthcoming from Sherlock’s end, reaffirming what John already suspected. 

For the rest of the afternoon, John tidied around the house and tended to a special roast recipe which even Sherlock wouldn’t say no to. It cooked slowly and over the course of a few hours the beef turned soft like butter. The side dishes were also slow-cooked and mixed in with the beef. Potatoes, mushrooms, green beans. A plethora of choice dishes and certainly a heavenly source of smell for the flat. 

John turned off the cooker at around eight that night, and wiped his hands thinking fondly of that previous week when Sherlock had so thoughtfully given him that massage and…

He wanted to return the favor. Perhaps a massage was not what Sherlock would want, but he was going to find what his partner needed and give it to him on a silver platter. 

Sherlock arrived not half-an-hour later, looking bright-eyed and excited, “John it was brilliant! You should have been there!” He paused as he fully entered the flat and a curious light came over his eyes,“John? What’s this —”

His answer was stalled by the immediate feeling of John’s arms around him. Arms came around his waist and tugged him close. “This is welcome home.” John hummed, and pressed his lips to Sherlock’s without further delay. It was a serene kiss, strong and solid, speaking volumes of emotion and love.

“I’ve only been away for three days, John.” Came Sherlock’s bemused voice, muffled by the soft press of lips against his own. 

“Three days was an awful lot for me.” John retorted softly, then he gently tugged off the ridiculous belstaff coat, and removed Sherlock’s suit jacket before taking by the hands, and guiding him to the dinner table.

“Oh, John…” Sherlock sounded alarmingly close to sentimental as John kissed his forehead and sat him down. 

“Let me treat you for a bit?” John asked lovingly, passing his hand gently over Sherlock’s cheek with overflowing affection. 

“You don’t need to —” Sherlock began and was once more wonderfully silenced by John’s lips on his. 

“I desperately want to…” John whispered as he broke away. The love was almost tangible, flowing from John to Sherlock. So deliciously real and physical that it felt like a humm in the air; an enveloping cloud where everything was slowed and softened. 

Dinner was tremendously slow and sweet, John fed Sherlock each bite, not allowing Sherlock to lift a finger. And strangely it was as if with each bite that Sherlock took, John exuded more love. He was almost dizzy with his love for this mad man, it took every ounce of control he had, to set the dishes aside and not drag Sherlock to the room to be ravished.

Rather, John led Sherlock to the bathroom where he set the shower to the detective’s preferred scalding temperature and undressed his lover. He then joined Sherlock (avoiding the stream of lava as it were) and began to massage the shampoo into those lovely, black locks. 

Sherlock had been rendered speechless since dinner, and now he openly groaned at the feel of John’s hands in his hair. He tilted back, subconsciously searching for more of John’s treatment, even as John never ceased his rubbing and running through those sinful curls. 

After washing down the remains of shampoo, John gently lathered the deep blue body-wash onto his hands and began to run them up and down Sherlock’s body. His touch was worshipful and so — so incredibly tender. His fingers ran down Sherlock’s chest and glazed over muscles and bones. They traced old scars and cupped flesh in small embraces. John was practically worshiping every inch of Sherlock’s body and the detective basked in the feeling. Sucking up each tender touch as though it were uttered words of praise. 

Eventually the shower ended, and John wrapped Sherlock in the biggest towel they owned and led his love to the bedroom (once upon a time having been Sherlock’s room). There he guided Sherlock to the bed and used the towel to dry him off properly.

“John —” Sherlock’s eyes connected with John’s and he pulled John into a searing kiss, hoping to convey his emotions in actions speaking louder than words. They spent but a few seconds in that kiss, but it felt like eons, like light years flew past them and when John unglued his lips from Sherlock’s he stayed but a hair’s width away.

“I love you so much. Let me give you just a small glimpse of how much, lie down Sherlock.” John’s hands found Sherlock’s shoulders and soon the two of them lay on the bed. Sherlock on his back and John crouching over him, both stark naked and beginning to feel the bright edges of arousal. 

John began with Sherlock’s hands, he lifted the violinist’s delicate palm up to his lips and kissed with a soft, hot passion. Then he traced the veins down Sherlock’s arms, all the while he whispered soft words under his breath, in-between kisses.

“You are so incredible Sherlock. I love you, every bit of you. How you can be so graceful, and so handsome, and how you can be fierce and powerful… I love your hands and how beautifully you use them. I love your shoulders and how strong you are. I love your chest and your neck… and oh god, how I love your heart, Sherlock.”

At the last sentiment, Sherlock sucked in a soft breath. “Oh god, John —” It was a plea, a moan, a deep rumble which pushed its way up John’s body down directly to his cock. 

The atmosphere, which had been shrouded in a fuzzy haze of deep, romantic love before, suddenly sharpened. The sudden burst of arousal slipped down Sherlock’s throat and fluttered by his heart before dropping in his stomach and flipping several times. Even after so long, this intimacy would never grow normal. It would never lose the butterfly effect on his stomach or the excitement in his heart. 

“John — Please,” Sherlock didn’t even know what he was asking for at this point, just something… anything! John heard him and began to kiss his way down Sherlock’s neck and over his pectorals once more. His lips sealed around his nipple and he  _ sucked _ so deliciously slowly. 

“Ahhh, John!” 

“Yes, oh god yes. Let me hear you,” John left the nipple, peaked and wet, and rushed into a deep and sensual kiss urgently with Sherlock. Their lips open, and tongues brushing and breaths mixing. John then made a move which Sherlock had never once seen him do, and he sucked Sherlock’s tongue. Almost as though he were trying to take in the flavor which was Sherlock and drink it down.

Somehow, Sherlock’s mind having been so incredibly distracted with  _ John _ , failed to realize the absence of John’s hands until they returned to his body, slick with some form of lube. Then Sherlock let out his first real gasp of the night, as John’s hand gripped his length with the strength that only John could ever possess so perfectly. Sherlock felt John smile against his mouth, and that was the last coherent though he had before John twisted his wrist just right and — 

“Ahhh, god... yes! Yes!” John was now kissing down his neck, leaving hickeys and soft bruises of passion. He then came down to face Sherlock’s cock and before Sherlock could register the loss of his hand, engulfed the length as far as he could go.

“Ohhhh,” Sherlock had leant forward on his elbows, hoping to watch John, but fell back in utter bliss as his partner worked miracles on him. The suction was perfect, John’s tongue rubbing with vigor on the underside of his cock with admirable strength. But, oh god, he could feel each and every bud as it pushed along his cockhead and — god have mercy — John was humming with something near desperation. He sounded starved, as though he desperately needed Sherlock’s cock in his mouth and that was just magical. 

“Oh god, don’t stop!” Sherlock threw his arms above his head and clung to the pillow sheets in desperation. A warm, slick hand began to cup and play with his balls and he was so close to spilling. So close to that peak, to that delicious, sweet, peak. 

“Ohhh…. Ahhh I’m… I’m close… Johnnnn!” A finger slipped down his perineurium and entered him softly and that was it. He spent himself fully into John’s mouth, his chest heaving and his body pushing forward in desperate attempts to thrust deeper and stronger. It was so powerful, and so sweet and strong and then he felt the euphoria ebb away into a calm.

He finally felt himself come down the high peak and fall into a satiated, warm, soft pleasure. Opening his eyes and evening his breathing and seeing John crawl up his torso and push back the curls on his face.

“Hi beautiful.” The smile that John gave him then was so soft, and so incredibly filled with love that Sherlock felt he had to kiss him. 

Desperately. 

He was certain that if he wouldn’t kiss John that very second he would surely die. Luckily, John seemed to receive his message and they pushed their lips together. Feeling every inch of John touching his body.

It was then that Sherlock realized that John was still, ridiculously hard. He felt somewhat abashed that he hadn’t done anything in turn for John, but was still filled with so much dopamine that he couldn’t dwell on it for long. 

“Hump me, John.”

“Hmm?” John lifted his lips from Sherlock’s face and looked at him with another dazzling smile. Sherlock’s hand moved to cup John’s jaw, trace down his neck and to his broad chest before gracing over the prominent erection.

“I said, hump me, get yourself off on me. I can hardly move as it is, and I want to feel you on me…” Already Sherlock flipped himself over and offered his arse to John. 

“Fuck. Oh … fuck. Are you sure? I could just wank one over you …” John was fighting a losing battle with himself. Even as he spoke, his hands had already gathered up the lubricant and began to coat a generous amount onto Sherlock’s crack.

“Of course I’m sure. Get your cock on my arse and rutt on me until you cum, John.” Sherlock said, his voice still deep with the endorphin release and satisfaction of his own orgasm. It was tinged with just the slightest bit of teasing and he heard John’s soft chuckle in response.

“Shameless, Sherlock.”

“You like it.”

“I really fucking do —”

Then Sherlock felt John’s cock slip between his arse cheeks and it was so warm and comforting, having that weight over him. Then John began to rutt, and he didn’t need any more encouragement. He rubbed himself quickly, pushing up Sherlock’s crack with urgency that befitted a final time. His cock slipped down and kissed Sherlock’s hole for seconds before John repositioned and continued his desperate humping.

It was hot, demanding, and soon, Sherlock heard John groan and then let out a deep, “Ahhhhhhh” from his chest. Spatters of cum over Sherlock’s back signaled the finale of John’s orgasm. And if it were possible to feel an orgasm from a lover telepathically, then Sherlock must have mastered the skill, because he felt the euphoria all over again. 

John quite literally fell over onto his side and took in deep breaths as if he had finished a marathon. His eyes were shut and his body was still tense from the strength of the release. For a few seconds Sherlock watched as John rode down his dopamine high. Then, as John’s breathing evened, and his body went lax Sherlock pushed himself up on his arms and loomed over John.

Deep blue eyes fluttered open and met the ever-changing silver ones smiling down at him. “Hey you…” John whispered with a smile. 

“Welcome back, John.” Sherlock smiled in return and leant down to kiss John’s cheeks. John pushed himself up then and gave Sherlock a proper, full-mouth kiss. Breaking apart after a minute, “Let me get you all cleaned up, you need to sleep for at least twelve hours and I’d prefer you get started on it.” John’s eyes were twinkling as he made his way to the edge of the bed and left for some wipes. 

When he came back, Sherlock had already fallen into a much-needed sleep and was lost in his dreamlands. John cleaned up the cum and lube on Sherlock’s body and then looked at him thinking, “How did I ever get so lucky with you…” John slipped under the covers and spooned Sherlock before joining him in a deep sleep.


End file.
